The Girl Most Likely To...

by Dorien Kelly

  “Glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” his brother said.

  Cal was pretty sure he’d just lost his mind, but the decision was made. If he had to put up with morons like MacNee, he wasn’t going to deny himself the absolute pleasure of Dana Devine.

  AT EXACTLY EIGHT O’CLOCK on Saturday night, a knock sounded on the front door of the Montavier Inn’s Garden Cottage. Dana took one last glance in the antique full-length mirror to make sure she looked as hot as she wanted to. Red silk, black leather and stiletto heels were a good start. Frowning, she slipped loose another button at the top of her blouse. It was going to take a whole lot of attitude to hide the butterflies flitting inside her.

  She opened the door and greeted Cal with a smile. “Hi,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter and then closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you.”

  “For a while there, I wasn’t sure I was going to come.” He took off his jacket and dropped it over an arm of the old coat tree next to the door.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Well, I couldn’t stand the thought of you sitting here alone…waiting.”

  The tension gripping her heart finally released. “And now that you’re here?”

  He led her by the hand to the small couch facing the fireplace. “We talk.”

  Her laughter had more to do with nerves than humor. “I had kind of been hoping to avoid talk. We don’t seem to be very good at that.”

  He smiled. “Point taken. So what do you suggest?”

  “One night. No questions. Just us.”

  “As I recall, we weren’t very good at that, either.” He paused. “Well, at least not the morning after.”

  She’d expected this, and had even rehearsed some witty answers. Unfortunately, they’d flown from her head, leaving an awkward, jumbled rush of words. “I made a mistake, plain as that. I had convinced myself I could handle something I couldn’t. I’m sure I have it under control now.”

  He sat silent, one brow arched.

  “Well, pretty sure.”

  Still no comment from Cal. She stood, looking for someplace in the room where she didn’t have a view of the bed, which was, of course, an impossibility. “Look, do you want to be here or not?”

  After a moment, he stood and walked to the center of the room. Dana was certain his next steps would be to his jacket and the door. Instead, he pulled his black cotton turtleneck over his head, revealing washboard abs and all the other details that tended to make her mouth go dry. He gripped the shirt in one broad hand. “Come over here.”

  That, she supposed, answered that.

  Going to Cal was both the easiest and the most difficult thing she’d ever done. As she neared him, he tossed the shirt to the foot of the bed. Tempted beyond reason, she laid her hand on the warm skin of his chest and felt the drumming of his heart. He settled his hand over hers, staying the downward course her fingers followed.

  “No turning cold on me in the morning?”

  “Only if you don’t stoke the fire,” she answered, nodding toward the brick hearth.

  He smiled, and the sight of his dimples made her heart beat faster—if such a feat were possible.

  “I’ve got the feeling it will be plenty hot in here.” He worked his way down the row of buttons at the top of her silk blouse. When he was done, he slid it off her shoulders and rested his hands on the skin he’d exposed. The blouse slipped down her arms until it held fast at the still buttoned cuffs.

  Dana shivered. Cal’s smile grew as he took in the rise and fall of her breasts, cupped in a frothy red lace almost-nothing of a bra. He hooked his thumbs under the straps and slid them, too, over her shoulders. Enthralled, she watched as he leisurely explored the upper curves of her breasts, lightly tracing them with the pads of his thumbs.

  She wanted to touch him, as well. Wanted it desperately. She struggled a bit against the blouse that held her arms captive. Cal chuckled at the sight. “Red silk handcuffs. On you, I like them.” He ran his thumb over her nipple. It rose to his touch. “A lot.”

  He unhooked the bra’s center closure and brushed the lacy cups aside.

  “Beautiful,” he said. As he looked at her, Dana took in the flush of desire beginning to climb the olive skin of his throat.

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” she replied.

  He grinned. “You’re not getting off the hook with humor. You asked me here, and here I am. Now I’m going to do everything I’ve been imagining over the past few weeks to that sweet body of yours.”

  “And I’m going to…?”

  “Enjoy it, would be my suggestion.” As he spoke, he held her breasts in his hands. The breath eased out of Dana’s body as he settled a kiss in the valley just above the center of her collarbone.

  “Well, I suppose just this once…” she managed to say in a flirty voice and was rewarded with a deep chuckle that vibrated against her sensitive skin.

  He kissed her once, twice…a promise of things to come. She was helpless to stop him when he walked her backward to the edge of the high four-poster bed, then nudged her so she sat upon it, her arms still bound to her sides.

  Seeming satisfied with the position he’d maneuvered her into, he smiled. “Let me get you a pillow.”

  Better than his word, he grabbed two pillows from the top of the bed and put them one on top of the other. He settled her so that she rested perpendicular to the headboard, her legs still dangling off the bed’s edge.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you know if I’m not.”

  He smiled again. “I’m sure you will. You’ve never been exactly shy about sharing your opinions.”

  Cal slipped the red high-heeled pumps from her feet, leaving Dana in her black leather pants, and her silk handcuffs.

  He ran a finger down her right instep. “No panty hose?”

  “Hate ’em.”

  “Makes my work easier.” His laugh was low and sexy. “And let me tell you, this hasn’t exactly been a heartbreaker so far.”

  He settled one knee on the edge of the bed and moved up so he was settled between her legs, his weight braced on his strong arms. “I’m going to kiss you some more right now…everywhere I’ve been thinking about.”

  Dana’s breath hitched. She could only hope he’d been thinking about some of the same places she had.

  He gave her countless slow, luxurious kisses, his tongue sweeping in to ride the ridge of her teeth and then enter her mouth, foreshadowing the possession she craved. She wanted to reach for him, hold him to her when he moved away, but her arms were bound.

  “Easy,” he murmured before working his way down to take one nipple into his mouth and draw upon it.

  The heat and wetness made her gasp and arch her back. “Yes, there,” she whispered.

  He lifted her breast to his mouth and opened wider, taking more in. She wrapped a leg around him, holding him in place the only way she could. Her heart pounded and her skin was damp by the time he kissed his way to her other breast and began the slow, hot torture again.

  “Cal—”

  He raised his head. The energy and sheer sensual intent in his blue eyes made her forget what she’d been about to say.

  “Let me,” he said.

  She nodded, knowing that if she asked, he’d free her from her silken bonds. He kissed her neck, the line of her collarbone, the skin of her upper arms, every so often returning to her mouth, giving her a brief chance to reciprocate. Every kiss she was permitted, Dana filled with her utter yearning to touch him.

  Standing he moved his hands to the button at the top of her pants. Dana’s eyes slipped shut with the relief that soon he’d free her. She sighed as the zipper came down. Her pants followed the same downward course, leaving her in her red undies. And the silk handcuffs.

  He touched her once, gently, on the bit of silk that nestled between her legs. To Dana, the slight pressure felt like a lightning bolt. She arched upward, asking for his caress once again. Instead, he bent
down and kissed her navel, then ran his tongue to the fine lace at the top of her panties.

  She almost sobbed with relief when he rose again and worked her panties down her legs to rest with her pants on the floor. He helped her to a sitting position, then reached behind her. Dana assumed he was going to free her from her tangle of clothing.

  Instead, he slid her forward a bit and then resettled her on the pillows. Their eyes met.

  “I said all the places…” His voice was deep and raspy with desire.

  He gave her a moment to object, but she didn’t. Control usually meant everything to her. It astounded her that she was willing to be held bound, to give this power to Cal.

  He knelt on the floor. She tried to relax, to slow her ragged breathing, but she was too wired with need. He looked at her for what seemed to be the longest time, though Dana knew it was no more than a few brief ticks of the antique mantel clock.

  In spite of the bold attitude she usually managed to carry off, she felt a hot blush stain her neck and chest. She couldn’t recall another moment in her life so intimate. Instead of closing her eyes as she wanted to, she watched Cal’s expression—the hunger, the primal heat.

  He looked up, and their eyes locked. “You’re beautiful everywhere.”

  This was too much. She closed her eyes and accepted his caresses, first gentle, then deeper. She relaxed and let her hips rise to meet his fingers in a natural dance she could no more stop than she could will tomorrow not to arrive. He murmured words to her. Sexy, delicious words that had her believing she was indeed as beautiful as he thought.

  She drew in a starved breath as his hand ran strong and sure down her right thigh, then looped behind to grip her under her knee. At his urging, she rested her leg over his shoulder. He touched her left leg and she willingly settled it where he asked. Then he began to kiss her…everywhere.

  DANA WAS DAMP and weak and totally boneless, and it had taken her a good long while to come down from the haze of a mind-bending climax to figure out that much. She willed her eyes to open.

  Cal sat next to her.

  “Hey there,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  She wriggled her shoulders. “Ready to set me free? I’ll make it worth your while, big guy.”

  He looked almost startled, then laughed. In a matter of seconds he held her upright, unbuttoned her silk cuffs and whisked away her shirt and bra. She gathered the pillows and moved them to the headboard.

  She watched as he stood and stripped out of his jeans and briefs with a blunt intent that thrilled her. He left her no doubt that they were far from finished tonight. Cal pulled a small packet from his wallet, and Dana shivered as he sheathed himself.

  He came to her and settled his weight over her. “Now.”

  She reached between them and guided him. His head dropped as he fitted himself inside her. She could see how he battled for self-control. The thought that he’d hold on for her to be ready to find pleasure sent a rush of tenderness through her. Filled, stretched, thrilled, she drew a deep, steadying breath.

  He braced more of his weight on his arms and lifted himself. “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Almost…a good almost.”

  Dana watched as shock, then passion, rippled across his features.

  “Unbelievable,” he murmured.

  She drew him down for a kiss, mating her tongue with his. This was different than that night in Chicago. It wasn’t simply that the edge of unfamiliarity was gone. Dana felt as though this meant more. It was a beginning, not an end.

  “Believe it,” she whispered after she’d let him go.

  He began to move, slowly at first, then with more force. Dana urged him on, murmuring bits of phrases that were all her mind could offer through the haze of the sheer, absolute joy of intimacy.

  Cal rolled so that she was sitting atop him. Looking up at her, he gripped her hips and said, “Take us there.”

  His mouth curved into a hard smile of pleasure as she raised herself and eased down again. Dana repeated the motion, slowly at first, then with more intensity. Hips moving to a music she couldn’t quite hear but still knew, she drew out her dance as long as she could. Hot, seeking hunger spiraled tight within her.

  “Come now,” he commanded.

  She pulled in a breath, ready to tell him that she couldn’t—not yet. But she was wrong.

  All it took was a simple, intimate touch from Cal for her to shatter. Lost in her release, she collapsed onto his chest. He rolled with her again, and while she clung to him, found his own end.

  As she lay beneath him, still intimately joined, he stroked her damp hair back from her forehead.

  “This, we do just right,” he said.

  Considering all the other things they had managed to do wrong so far—talking, understanding, believing—Dana considered this a good start.

  As she slipped into sleep, she gave one last, contented smile. A very good start.

  9

  SPRING BEGAN to make more than the occasional appearance. Trunk-slammers trickled back into town, filling the streets and shops, including Dana’s. In mid-May, her two part-time stylists would return to help throughout the busy season. Until then, she would simply have to work harder—no mean feat considering that the spa renovations still consumed most of her nights.

  Though they had managed no more than a handful of phone calls and passing greetings in the weeks since the night at the Montavier Inn, Dana knew that Cal was busy fielding his own problems, too. After much foot-dragging, the town council had set the first of June as the date for determining who would become police chief. These days, Cal’s hours seemed to be even longer than hers. When she’d walk home under the moonlight, she’d see his Explorer still parked by the station. It was all she could do not to slip in for a visit, but she didn’t dare risk it.

  Richard MacNee had kicked his “holier than thou” campaign into overdrive, and Cal’s competition was no fool. He’d pegged the mayor and the council as the pack of hand-wringers they were. The slightest noise of discontent from a constituent sent them into a tizzy. Right now, the discontent was at a dull roar and rising.

  Through a series of strategically placed comments in the local newspaper about the troubles at Devine Secrets, MacNee had cemented his image as a man of moral resolve generally not found outside the Old Testament. He also had the fire-and-brimstone contingent in town whispering that Cal was too fond of a good time to properly enforce Sandy Bend’s laws.

  Dana couldn’t believe that people had fallen for MacNee’s act. Then again, they hadn’t been at the receiving end of the looks Richard had recently started giving her. They reminded her too much of Dickie Junior’s sly grin that night back in high school when he’d tried to grope her. A smile that had been forcibly removed when she’d bloodied his nose and tested his soprano singing range.

  Carrying her Saturday to-go lunch from the Corner Café, Dana sighed as she walked past the police station. All in all, it was best that she and Cal avoided each other. He was safe from her reputation, and she was safe from thinking of him as anything more intimate than a guy who was phenomenally talented in the art of buddy sex.

  “I’m back,” she called to Trish as she entered the salon. “I got us the pasta special.”

  Trish popped out of her room. “Perfect. I’m starved.” She pulled off the white coat she wore over her clothes while working with clients.

  Dana eyed her friend. “In my next lifetime, I want Uma Thurman’s eyes and your metabolism.” No matter how much Trish ate—and she ate a lot—she stayed thin. Dana believed this state should violate the laws of nature. Unless she attained it herself.

  “And while we’re at it,” she said as she zipped past the styling stations, “it would only be fair if—”

  She turned back. Something looked strangely out of place. “Wait a second.” She thrust the carryout bag at Trish. The two stations used only during the summer season were neat and clean as always. Hers looked wrong, though.


  She drew a shaky breath. Maybe she was just imagining things. The blow-dryer and curling iron were at the ready. Sprays, gels and mousses lined the back of the counter by the mirror.

  Her stomach turned to lead. “Oh, no.”

  Her scissors—all four pairs—were gone.

  Maybe she’d put them away before she left and had just forgotten. Her hands shook as she opened drawers and riffled through the contents. Her black leather scissors case was in the top drawer, as always. Dana picked it up and unzipped it, even though by its weight, she knew it was empty. She closed it and returned it to the drawer.

  “I know this is going to sound stupid,” she said over the pounding of her heart, “but did you happen to put my scissors someplace while I was gone?”

  Trish shifted the food sack from one hand to the other. “No, I was with my client until right before you got back. What’s the matter?”

  “My scissors are gone. All of them.”

  “They can’t be!” She set the food on the neighboring station and began to dig through the drawers Dana had just searched. “They have to be here somewhere. I’m not surprised this happened. You’ve been really distracted lately.”

  “Not that distracted, and I’ve already looked in there.”

  “Well, I’m looking again.”

  Dana sat in the styling chair and watched Trish go through every drawer. She couldn’t stop shaking. Good scissors were incredibly expensive. Perfectionist that she was, she’d never touch a client’s hair with less than the best. It would cost over fifteen hundred dollars to replace her full set, and she was out of business until she did.

  “I can’t understand where they went,” Trish said. “No one could have come in or I would have heard the bell.”

  Dana let her eyes slip closed, as though by not seeing the truth, she could make it go away. “You wouldn’t have heard them if they came in the back door.”

  “Oh…right.”

  They never bothered to lock that door during business hours. This was Sandy Bend, after all, where everyone—and everything—was safe.